


Weaving Conflagration from Ash

by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)



Series: YOI Fantasy Week and Stories Branching Off From It [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Day One: Phoenix | Anger, Disturbing Fluff, Fantasy, Fluff, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Phoenixes, Pre-Slash, YOI Fantasy Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortescryche/pseuds/Adel%20Mortescryche
Summary: Between one heartbeat and the next, he had fingers with which he could cup the human’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly over its cheekbone. Skin cool to the touch, now that he could feel it through his skin.His eyes burned, growing wet.He slid his hand around to the back of the human’s head and neck, easily pulling it up from the ground, ignoring how boneless its form felt. And blinked, slowly, feeling the burn in his eyes slowly drip down-and-down over the skin of his cheeks, leaving an aching trail in their path.A while later, he finally sat up again, spent, and watching with an odd satisfaction burning within him as the human’s breath grew deeper, some color returning to its cheeks, only looking lovelier for it.Yes. This was a wise decision.---Victor awakens after being sure that he'll never wake again. He's not sure how he's still alive, just that something inhuman is responsible for it. He has no choice but to try and regain his strength and return to civilization.His only companion through this? A strange red and gold bird that seems to watch his every move, oddly companionable even in the absence of speech.





	Weaving Conflagration from Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Fusion with **Übel Blatt**. Major plot points therefore belong to **Etorouji Shiono** \- All I came up with is Phoenix!Yuuri and everything about him in this fic.
> 
> Crossposted to Tumblr **[Here](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com/post/167466652734/yoi-fantasy-week-day-1)**.

It’s odd, to see a human this far into the waste.

Yuuri had been minding his own business, flying back to his territory further up into the mountains when he’d stumbled across the interloper right on the edges of the wastes. He’d slowed down, veering right and down in a careless curve that had him closer to the trees with barely any effort.

Alighting on a branch that was somewhat closer to the ground than he usually chose, he peered down at the stranger in curiosity. Yuuri couldn’t say much about the human other than the fact that it seemed almost inhumanly pretty, almost like one of the fae that hid deeper in the woods. But, no, clearly human, judging by the scent of the blood pooling around it.

…far too much of it. Humans didn’t have too much blood in them, not enough to allow for this much lying wasted on the ground. Yuuri hopped off his branch, opening his wings so he fell to the earth a little more gracefully than he would have otherwise.

There. The human’s limbs were lying in unnatural angles – for all that Yuuri wasn’t familiar with them, he knew how mammalian limbs were supposed to be arranged, especially in a biped. This wasn’t it. The covering that humans were wont to wear was also ripped on the form of this human, deep gashes visible beneath the rips. Blood still pumped sullenly out of the wounds, slow enough to be worrying. Yuuri shuffled forward awkwardly, wondering if he should switch to his other form for better mobility, and deciding against it when he registered how still the human looked.

Dead, then. Pity.

…but, no. It didn’t _smell_ dead. Yuuri carefully tucked his beak under the human’s chin to tilt its face up, and the human made a weak sound. Hardly a protest, too pained to have anywhere near enough lucidity to express anything of the sort.

Yuuri gazed unabashedly at the face that had been revealed, once the loose strands of hair had slipped aside to lay it bare. Beautiful. So beautiful. Yuuri had seen _many_ humans over the years, it was impossible not to when Yuuri tended to head towards settlements when he was bored. But he’d never seen anything near as lovely as this one.

Such a pity, to let it die. Such a _waste._

Yuuri allowed the banked heat he had caged within him to spread up and out, through his chest and into his shoulders, feeling it sing through his veins and into every feather on him. It spooled out slowly through the rest of him, down into the depths of every muscle and bone, until he could feel them shift and harden, his form mutating, flames curling up from within and bursting outwards to lick across his skin.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he had fingers with which he could cup the human’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly over its cheekbone. Skin cool to the touch, now that he could feel it through his skin.

His eyes burned, growing wet.

He slid his hand around to the back of the human’s head and neck, easily pulling it up from the ground, ignoring how boneless its form felt. And blinked, slowly, feeling the burn in his eyes slowly drip down-and- _down_ over the skin of his cheeks, leaving an aching trail in their path.

A while later, he finally sat up again, spent, and watching with an odd satisfaction burning within him as the human’s breath grew deeper, some color returning to its cheeks, only looking lovelier for it.

Yes. This was a wise decision.

*

When Victor awoke, it was to a world filled with far less pain than he’d anticipated.

Actually, if he were to be honest, he didn’t think he’d _wake_ at all. Not after what had happened. Not after-

He forces himself not to think about it, taking a shuddering sigh and pushing himself up on his elbows, still bewildered that he _could._ He nearly sags back onto his back immediately; whatever had ensured his continued existence apparently hadn’t been enough to also return his strength to him.

He blinked blearily up at what little he could see of the open sky through the pale greenery surrounding him, up at the edge of the open cliff from which he’d been thrown, so far above him that it was a miracle that his neck hadn’t snapped upon impact with the ground. His limbs still felt weak, as did the rest of him, but it wasn’t the bone-weary weakness that came with a majority of the body’s blood being on the ground rather than within, where it belonged. His legs weren’t broken anymore, not from what he could sense. His arms weren’t broken either.

There was salt upon his lips. A hint of copper. It made him stiffen, because the taste brought with it the memory of someone, some _thing,_ lifting him from the ground with as much ease as if he were a babe, just so much weightless fluff upon the ground. The touch of a liquid, burning hot, dripped down past his parted lips.

He’d been fed with some manner of inhuman concoction when he’d been too weak to protest. Even now, he could feel the burn of it in his chest, ensuring that his heart kept pumping even when he knew, he _knew,_ he should have been dead.

There was a bird, up in the branches of a tree nearby, staring down at him.

Victor stared back at it, mind still reeling under all that had happened to him since he’d reached the wastes with his companions. His once loyal companions, those whom he’d considered his friends, his brothers and sisters in arms, now forever his enemies. Betrayed by them not once, but _twice._ Those few he would have given his life for, once, nearly had on multiple occasions, and now forever lost to him. The thought was enough to force him properly upright, though his body protested violently.

It takes nearly an hour until he’s able to get himself to his feet, though the effort has him throwing up weakly to the side, some sort of black ichor being expelled to the ground when he hacked and coughed. When he looked up again, the back of one hand scrubbing roughly against his lips, the palm of the other pressed firmly up against a conveniently close tree, it was to find that the bird had disappeared.

Victor forced himself not to keep thinking on it. For all that he was weak, and just wanted to sit in one place, from the look of the shadows on the ground, it was already midday. And he was in the wastes. He needed to find some sustenance, whatever meagre option available to him when he wasn’t strong enough to hunt, and some water. Possibly shelter as well. A place to lay low, until he could find the strength to venture forth again.

At least there was one good thing that came of being as wounded as he’d been, before being brought back from the brink. There was no way in hell anyone would expect him to have survived.

*

It’s not the last he saw of the bird. It appeared to him intermittently, up in the trees when he hunted for edible roots or fallen fruit at their base. When he’d been lucky enough to find a thinly flowing stream only a little away from where he’d woken to find himself, he saw it sitting on the other side of the water. He’d stared at it, unblinking, and it had stared back before trilling some unfamiliar melody and taking to the air. Flying away from him. Even later, after a few nights spent up in the trees, he found the bird waiting for him again, further up the mountains when he’d attempted to follow the stream to its source, hoping for a more stable place to tend to his weariness.

A beautiful little lake, untouched by humanity. Possibly fed by ice melt flowing down from even further up the mountain he was journeying over. And the bird, sunning itself upon some rocks, there almost as though it were waiting for him. In the pale light of an early morning sun, Victor could better appreciate the richness of its flame red plumage, and the way its eyes seemed to glow a ruddy, bronzed shade, an almost alien sentience visible in its gaze.

Victor was no fool. He could tell there was something unnatural about the bird. But it had done nothing to hurt him so far, and so, he would leave it be. It wasn’t like he was willing to take on those claws and that wingspan when he didn’t have anything to defend himself with, anyway.

You’d think his traitorous friends would at least leave his dying body some dignity and leave his weapons behind. Apparently not.

By some happy circumstance, he found a tiny cave not far from the lake. More a burrow than a cave, seeing as it was half buried under a tree, but he would take what he could get. And it was a place for him to hide and spend the night, not too cold or warm, and relatively protected from the stranger weather phenomenon that struck the wastes at times.

His days were spent in relative solitude, after that point. Nothing more to do with his time other than search for food, and rest when he wasn’t hunting. Oddly enough the bird continued to be his companion, somehow finding it within itself to come down and keep him company.

The first time he succeeded in finding fresh fruit, which was a painfully rare commodity in the wastes as he’d found, he offered up part of his bounty to his only companion. The bird had seemed almost amusingly startled, but it _didn’t_ fly away, instead coming closer and gingerly accepting the berries from his fingers, sitting by his side on the edge of the pond while he ate.

*

His strength slowly returned to him, over the passing days. Slowly, gradually, at an incremental pace that infuriated him as much as it filled him with a sharp joy. The increasing vigor in his limbs and his frame brought with it the reminder that he’d reached this rock bottom for a reason. That for all he’d survived on a miracle, possibly on the whim of some higher power, he’d _survived._ And he owed a debt to those who hadn’t.

He owed it to them. To Chris, to Georgi, to Mila. He’d survived, they hadn’t, and he would make those that had betrayed them rue the day they’d ever courted conspiracy.

He awoke from dreams painted red in pain and blood in equal measure to the sensation of something sitting at his side. Someone. Something. It was too dark to tell, in his little burrow, even the little light from the moon and stars not penetrating the gloom of his temporary home. He tried to jerk upright, chest still heaving from his dreams, but a hand pressed up against his flank, keeping him down against the ground.

The hand _burned,_ nearly a brand against his bare skin. Too hot, like the heat of a furnace, enough to imagine it singeing his skin.

“You dream of much, human,” the being murmured, its voice soft, cutting easily through the darkness that surrounded them.

They nearly made Victor choke.

“What’s it to you?” he whispered back, trying to hide his unease. It had to have been futile, surely the creature could tell how uncomfortable he was? How much he wished for a blade so he could skewer it where it sat?

It made no sign of being able to tell anything of the sort, patting his side almost absentmindedly.

“Well. I kept your life beating in your chest. You would think that that would be enough to want to know why you never seem to sleep,” it said, thoughtful, and Victor pushed himself upright against the inhuman strength of the grip that coaxed him to stay down.

It was too dark. It was _too dark._ Victor couldn’t see the face of the creature that sat beside him in the night.

“Your name?” It asked, and Victor swallowed dryly, shivering when a hand cupped his jaw and part of his neck.

“I think it would be a very bad idea to say,” he replied, and the creature _laughed,_ sounding honestly amused, the sound warm and filling Victor with the same steady strength that had been keeping him going since he’d awoken at the scene of his death, almost a whole month ago.

“Maybe so,” it agreed, sounding appreciative and vaguely fond. “Very well, then. I’ll continue to call you my pretty one in my head. You do shine so well in the light.”  

“Who are you?” Victor replied, voice hoarse. For naught, because all it did was make the creature laugh again.

“Sleep, pretty one,” it said. “Dream not of death. I’ve picked you out for myself, no one will encroach on your person when I am there to prevent it.”

And then it was gone, leaving Victor to stare into the darkness alone.

*

He supposed he wasn’t all that surprised when the bird burst into flame, revealing itself to be something… _other,_ the first time his life was truly in peril at the hands of the border guard, on his way back to civilization. Instead of pausing to stare at the uncomfortably humanoid being that had appeared at his side, now familiar flame red pinion feathers interspersed amongst its longish black hair, he instead took care of those soldiers he could handle alone.

“Humans,” it declared later, “are far too prone to violence.”

“Says you as shake off the blood staining your hands and claws,” Victor turned back on it dryly, washing the sword he’d snatched off a guard in the stream nearby.

“Well. It’s unpalatable. I prefer pork, personally,” it said, face screwed up in derision, completely missing the point, and Victor had to laugh.

When he opened his eyes, the being was staring at him again, its eyes far more arresting in a more human face. Less bronzed and more earthen, now, its gaze all-consuming as it watched his face, head tilted a little to the side.

Victor swallowed, mouth dry.

*

“So you rescued me and then stayed by my side, all this time,” he said later in the night, leaning back against a stack of hay in the stable he’d been offered to spend the night.

The being, back in its humanoid shape, now that there wasn’t anyone else to see it, was walking through the stable curiously, leaning in to peer at the horses with wide eyes. Amazingly enough, they didn’t seem to be spooked at all. It made Victor feel a bit better about trusting his back to it.

 “You were interesting to watch,” the words were thrown out almost blandly, like an afterthought. “And you gave me fish. And fruit.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, is it,” Victor mused wryly, remembering what it had said about pork earlier on.

The next thing he knew, the being was right in front of him, close enough that the tips of their noses were touching. Victor would deny it to the last of his days, but he actually yelped in alarm.

“I,” it said, sounding disgusted, “am no man.”

“That’s rather obvious, yes, I can still see your feathers.” Victor responded, voice a little high pitched.

The being blinked at him slowly, and lifted a hand to run it through the feathers, the plumes actually growing from its head along with the hair, somehow.

“Oh. They are very nice feathers, aren’t they,” it said rather bashfully, and Victor could only stare back at it, bemused.

“…er. Yes. _Very_ nice feathers. Such a lovely shade of fiery red-”

“I am of fire. My feathers represent me well,” it said primly, and Victor blinked at it, suddenly connecting innumerable little facts he’d registered over the last month or so together to see a larger, clearer picture.

“You’re a _phoenix,”_ he breathed, awed, and the being _preened._

“Why, yes. How nice of you to have finally noticed.”

Victor blinked at it, again, and it blinked back, the corners of its eyes crinkled in amusement.

“…ah. That _did_ take me longer than it should have, didn’t it.” He admitted sheepishly.

The being nodded, continuing to look amused. Victor couldn’t seem to stop staring, his chest filling with a strange sort of joy, one that he hadn’t ever dreamt of being able to feel again. Not since his old companions had turned on him, and the others. He’d had moments like this before, nights after a whole day’s worth of travel when Chris cracked bawdy jokes at his own expense, when Georgi insisted on singing a spontaneous sonnet to some barmaid’s generous heart and kind words, when Mila sat at his side, laughing at the other two and elbowing him in the side in glee. Companionship, which he’d never dreamt of having again, which had been returned to him by the same being that had saved his life.

“Victor,” he said abruptly, making the phoenix blink in surprise at him. “My name. It’s Victor.”

The being’s eyes went wide momentarily, and its lips spread in a delighted smile.

“Unexpected, pretty one. What of hiding yourself from me? Is this because we are in a human settlement?”

Victor sputtered, and the being laughed softly, reaching out with a claw-tipped hand to cup his cheek, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone.

“Very well. Victor. You may call me Yuuri, I do not mind. For you have met me halfway.”

Yuuri. _Yuuri._ Victor felt the name settle in his chest, warming him from within the same as Yuuri’s laughter had before. Same as the tears it’d fed into Victor’s mouth when he’d still been unconscious. Yuuri was right, it was a show of trust, and he’d been met halfway as well, hadn’t he.

It wasn’t enough to melt away his anger, or his need for vengeance. But it _was_ a promise, of sorts. Almost reminding him that there was more to be had than a life of silent anger suffered alone, focused unerringly on revenge.

He wasn’t sure what miracle had led Yuuri to his side that day, instead of any of the other strange creatures and powers that roamed the wastes. But he was happy that it had been Yuuri. Because Yuuri seemed to have given him so much more than a simple revival into a life of pain.

Yuuri made a questioning sound when he reached out wordlessly with both arms. Victor felt vindicated when the being actually squeaked upon being dragged closer into a tight embrace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this! 
> 
> **Kudos and Comments are very welcome.** I'd love to hear what you thought about Victor, and how Yuuri felt in this AU take on him! I'll get back to you as soon as I am able.
> 
> \---
> 
> For anyone interested, the next new AO3 post from me will be: Day Two's Submission for UraIchi Week 2018 and one of my backlogged fills for YOIFantasyWeek 2018 - featuring a Hobbit!Yuuri, an Elf!Victor and a minor crossover with Lord of the Rings.
> 
> You can find me **[@adelmortescryche](https://adelmortescryche.tumblr.com/)** \- come by and say hi! I don't bite.


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